


Meokja: The Contemporary Culinary Experience

by historiologies



Category: Mamamoo, Oh My Girl (Band), SEVENTEEN (Band), fromis_9 (Band)
Genre: CHAN IS CLAIRE and that's basically what set off this whole AU, F/F, F/M, M/M, i just wanted to be able to write about my best girls and boys as friends, i only retain the concept of the whole thing as well as the magazine positions BUT chan is claire., it's a bon appetit test kitchen AU set in korea but if bon appetit was run by an lgbt+ staff, it's an ensemble piece meaning everyone's going to get their stories told, this is honestly just very self-indulgent on my part
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-18
Updated: 2019-10-13
Packaged: 2020-09-06 18:19:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,677
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20295886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/historiologies/pseuds/historiologies
Summary: Meokja!(trans. Let's Eat!)Chan doesn't know if he's ever been in a work environment filled with so much flirting between so many attractive people, but he's too busy trying not to blush over the cute assistant test kitchen manager to try to find an answer to that.A Bon Appetit Test Kitchen AU, sort of.





	1. Prep Time

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so. First of all, huge suspension of disbelief please, at the acceptability and possibility of the following: a. office romances, b. an almost entirely LGBT+ staff, c. the social media accounts being in English, and d. everyone included in this AU knowing how to cook/bake. Please accept all of these as a matter of fact, I don't want to delve too much in the sociopolitics of it all too much. I just want to write BA test kitchen AU where people get together or flirt mercilessly with one another without overthinking it. Please allow me to.
> 
> Secondly, like I said in the tags, this is incredibly self-indulgent. Other idol group members will likely make an appearance or guest in some manner (if you want someone to show up, let me know!) but the whole magazine will be propped up by Seventeen, Fromis_9, Mamamoo and Oh My Girl members.
> 
> Thirdly, even though it's a Bon Appetit Test Kitchen AU, I only really got the concept of it -- nobody is supposed to represent anyone from the BA test kitchen staff/members. Except Chan. Chan is definitely Claire (Hansol is /not/ based on Brad; he just has Brad's position.)
> 
> Lastly, this is all just supposed to be fun!! Please don't take it seriously; I just really wanted to write different pairings aside from my usual fare but have them all be in one giant AU. It's fanfic.
> 
> That said, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I've enjoyed writing it!! Pairings are still up in the air except for the ones I've already put in the tags. Don't worry -- even though I've written primarily SVT fic, this is going to be an ensemble fic through and through. I definitely want to give the girls their due, because they're the best and I adore them :)

When Jeonghan first tells Jihoon about his idea, the first thing he does is give him a flat-out no.

“You’re overreacting because it’s 9 am and you haven’t had your coffee yet. Here,” Jeonghan tells him, as he places a hot mug of coffee in front of Jihoon.

He grunts, and Jeonghan grins, before spinning lazily around on one of the conference room swivel chairs. His long-ish blonde hair swooshes around his face before settling over his ears softly. “Hear me out. I feel that it’s a natural progression.” He plants his feet when this chair circles back around to face Jihoon’s deadpan expression.

He raises one cynical eyebrow at Jeonghan, clearly not seeing the connection.

“Jihoon, we could earn double the revenues if we maximized the use of our space here at the offices. I mean, I know Yongsun-noona and Byulyi-noona think of this as their little pet project and indulge Seungcheol and the rest of us as much as they can but this could be _the_ idea that could take Meokja to the top of the food magazine scene.”

“By showing them footage of our test kitchen?”

“Yes!” Jeonghan blurts out. His eyes are wide and just a little manic; Jihoon can tell this idea means a lot to him. “I mean, our test kitchen, with us in it!”

“I fail to see what’s so revolutionary about it. Cooking videos are all over Youtube,” Jihoon retorts.

“Yes, but those videos don’t have _us_ in them.”

“Why would people tune in to see non-celebrities make food?”

“Because we’re pretty!” Jeonghan counters, and Jihoon has to laugh. “We all have fun whenever we’re hanging out in the test kitchen because we’re all young, funny people and I think people will just _love_ that. They’ll want to see it, to keep seeing it.”

Jihoon understands the point Jeonghan is trying to make, but he has plenty of misgivings about the whole notion. It’s easy to rhapsodize about food the way they all do behind the comfort of the written word and anonymity, but it’s different when you present yourself as a personality, when people can put a face to the people who passionately debate the little nuances in the kimchi fermentation process, and who end up having shouting matches about what the best cheese ever is (he is firmly on Team Parm).

It’s a little scary, especially since they’re mostly a large group of friends and colleagues of the LGBT+ variety, something that’s not actually articulated through their articles, and showing off their workplace and dynamic through videos on a readily accessible ? It’d be hard for people to ignore all the blatant flirtation among all them that goes around every time most of them are in the office together. He thinks about the time he entered the test kitchen — a floor below their writing cubicles and offices where they developed the recipes they featured in the magazine — and caught Minghao and Joshua giggling over a couple of glasses of wine on one counter, Gyuri staring fondly at Saerom while the latter was trying to type out an article on Gyuri’s laptop, and Mihyun and Shiah cuddling in the farthest corner while waiting for him.

(Seungcheol’s only rule was that they wouldn’t let any of their personal lives affect their deadlines — he’s the last person to put up an office dating ban, being such a cheap romantic at heart and also. Honestly.)

Still, Meokja — marketed as the friendly, quirky food magazine geared towards the younger, more culinarily adventurous generation — had hit a little bit of plateau in subscriptions lately, and Seunghee was a little distraught about it. Jihoon hated seeing Seunghee, one of the brightest and sunniest personalities in their office, so down every time she saw the monthly numbers inching downward, so even though he had doubts about Jeonghan’s idea, he could agree with the basic tenet of them needing to shake things up.

Jeonghan watches Jihoon mull everything over, before resting his chin on his palms and leaning forward. “I already ran the idea past Hyejin and Cheol.”

Jihoon raises his eyebrow again. “And they agreed?”

“Hyejin thinks it’s a great idea, and she’ll be in charge of presenting the concept to MoonSun,” Jeonghan says, referring to the lesbian power couple that ran their publishing house. “I’m still bringing Cheol around to it.”

And there it is. The rub.

Jihoon leans back, crosses his arms. Jeonghan’s eyelashes have all of a sudden gotten all fluttery and sweet, but Jihoon refuses to be moved even if the action does make his chest tighten just a little — he’s a sucker for Jeonghan’s pretty face, a fact that the other always seems to exploit when it’s convenient for him. “I suppose you want me to convince him to support this?”

“_Convince_ is such a forceful word, Jihoon,” Jeonghan pouts, looking affronted. He twirls the pen he’s placed in front of him, trying to look nonchalant. “Maybe just let him know your thoughts about it.”

“But what if my thoughts aren’t good, hyung?” Which they may or may not be.

“Just promise me you’ll think about it, Jihoon, before talking to the boss.” Jeonghan gives him a smile, a genuine one this time, not one of those he puts on when he’s trying to pull one over the rest of them. For all his schemes and machinations, Jeonghan is one of the people he trusts the most, not just as a work buddy, but as a friend.

Jihoon sighs. In the end, Jeonghan has him right where he wants him. “Okay, fine. I will. But what makes you think I can influence his decision?”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes before staring meaningfully at him. “That’s not even a question, Jihoon. You just do.”

He opens his mouth to reply, but finds he has nothing to say.

***

Seungcheol looks up, smiles when he sees who’s knocking on his door. “Hey.” He checks his watch. “Is it lunch time already? You’re a little early.”

His office is nice — outside the window, there’s a nice, 32nd floor view of the Han River. The interior looks deceptively cold and minimalist, with its fluid metal and glass, but there are little touches of Seungcheol everywhere, from the warm red tones of the paintings of fruits and vegetables drawn by his nieces on the walls, to the game consoles proudly on display, to the bright pinball machine in the corner that Jihoon releases all his writer’s block aggravation out on.

“I know,” Jihoon says, a little pensively, before sitting in the chair in front of Seungcheol’s desk. He’s still thinking about the conversation he and Jeonghan had a few hours ago. He’d holed up in his office after that, weighing the pros and cons of opening their world to the internet.

“I talked to Jeonghan earlier. About his idea.”

“Ah,” Seungcheol says. He lets out a sigh, clasps his hands together. If Jihoon wants to reach over to link their fingers together, well, that’s just a feeling he has to swallow down. For now. “So he’s run it by you too.”

“He has,” Jihoon nods slowly. “Are you interested in going in that direction, hyung?”

When Jihoon looks at Seungcheol, it’s hard for him to see the fancy editor-in-chief, despite all the trappings. When he looks at Seungcheol, he sees the boy who was constantly in and out of the little fine dining establishment Jihoon had been working at as an apprentice patissier because he’d become enamored with his desserts, who would always wait for him to clock out of his shift so they could spend hours over a shared bottle of soju, poring over the details of what would eventually become Meokja — a shared passion project, but in reality, Seungcheol’s baby.

So when he asks Seungcheol this question, he knows that Seungcheol will always have the magazine’s best interest at heart.

“It’s something I’ve considered, even before Jeonghan had come up with his brilliant idea,” Seungcheol replies, smiling wryly at his best friend’s enthusiasm. “I know how big those cooking videos that are shared on Instiz and Naver are. It’s a way to get new people interested in what we do, and a way to get them to look at food, cooking, nutrition a little differently.”

Jihoon waits. “But?”

Seungcheol sighs. “Even if we start out small, we can’t put out something that isn’t quality, which means we need to hire people who know what we’re doing, who get who we are, who know what we want to do. And you know how hard it is to find someone like that.”

Someone who accepts all of them for who they are, is what he’s trying to say.

“Plus, everyone will have to put in more work. Digital will have to accommodate the addition of a new platform. We’ll also need video editors, producers, content writers… it’ll be an overhaul.”

He tilts his head at Jihoon. “What do you think?”

Jihoon exhales. It’s not conceited for him to think that what he says next could have a lot of implications.

On the one hand: rebranding costs, an infrastructure revamp, hiring new staff, purchasing more server space. This was all on top of the risk that this new venture wouldn’t even be successful or accepted.

On the other hand: revenues. Revenues, revenues, revenues. The chance to bring the spirit of Meokja to a whole new audience. More recipes, more restaurants, more culinary personalities and experiences… just more.

It would be a gamble. But a fun one. And in the end, that’s what convinces him.

“It sounds like something we would do,” Jihoon says, and Seungcheol smiles.

That’s all he needs.

***


	2. Meet the Team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soonyoung ropes in relatively new chef Chan to become a contributor to Meokja -- but he neglects to mention the whole 'on-camera' part of it all. Oops. 
> 
> Classic Soonyoung.

This is ridiculous.

Chan exhales, shaking his head to ward off any last minute nerves. He’d been told to come to the Meokja offices for a screen test, something he’s still not sure about pushing through with.

He was a Le Cordon Bleu diploma holder, for crying out loud. His pastries were considered some of the best of his batch at the SICA. He had a very nice job as a chef working the weekday pastry bar at this very chic and cosmopolitan hotel in the heart of Gangnam.

So why was he nervous walking into the Meokja offices for the first time? He could certainly hold his own against what looked to be a fairly mixed bag of people whose credentials ranged from home-taught to apprenticed under Yim Jungsik. He could make a souffle in his _sleep_. They were calling him—_him_—the future of Seoul pastries.

So these nerves? Absolutely unwelcome.

This is ridiculous _and_ all Soonyoung’s fault.

He nearly jumps when the elevator dings and its doors open smoothly, a whisper of chromium and steel. He steps inside, telling himself that it’s not a job interview—technically, he already has the job, and today’s his first day. Soonyoung had been so eager to invite him to become a part of Meokja, and he’d agreed to his longtime friend and fellow food enthusiast’s invitation to become a guest contributor without thinking (note to self: big mistake, never do that again) before Soonyoung had dropped the bomb—as guest contributor, he’d be asked to make videos.

Him. On videos. _Him_.

He hasn’t taken any videos of himself since he was a kid dancing to Michael Jackson songs. And now Soonyoung expects him to… what exactly?

“To make stuff! But like, on camera!”

“But why? Who would want to watch me make stuff?” he’d spluttered to Soonyoung over the phone when he’d fully understood just what he’d agreed to. “Can’t I just do that whole thing trending on Naver now where people put up videos without showing their faces?”

“The point is for people to get attached _to_ us, Channie. You’re going to be the selling point, not your food!” Soonyoung is so excited he’s stumbling over his words, his run-on sentences filling Chan’s tiny little kitchen via speakerphone.

“Gee, thanks, that’s good to know,” Chan deadpans while he’s rolling out another batch of dough for a cookie recipe he’s tinkering with. He tilts his head and purses his lips at how soft the dough is, the batter not exactly achieving the consistency he was looking for. “I’m sure that’s what you tell all the chefs you invite onto your channel.”

“Think about it this way, Channie. I’ve seen the way you bake. The way you explain to me what you’re trying to do? The viewers will love it!”

“What way? What way?” Chan’s voice is rising, hysteria looming over the horizon. “Hyung, I don’t sound any kind of way when I’m baking!”

“You do! And you’ll see it when you finally get your butt over here to meet everyone and finally have your screen tests! Bye!”

Chan makes a mental note to himself to ask for a comprehensive job description before agreeing to anything, even if it comes from very good friends. Rookie mistake. Very rookie.

The elevator dings on the 32nd floor, and Chan steps out tentatively. The reception area smells just like the lobby of the hotel he’s working at, and smells distinctly non-foodlike and very corporate-like. He raises an eyebrow curiously, checking the floor number before stepping towards the front desk.

Yup. 32nd floor. Just like what Soonyoung’s text said.

Sitting happily at the desk filing her nails was a girl with thick wavy hair, a soft smile playing on her face as she hummed an Apink song. Chan thinks it’s “No, No, No”. He clears his throat, almost disappointed he has to interrupt her. He quite likes that song and the girl’s voice has a nice timbre to it.

“Excuse me?”

Chan watches with wide eyes as the girl startles at the sound of his voice and slides half-off the seat, hands pinwheeling as she tries not to fall off the chair. “Ho—oh my God,” she yells, and Chan can see the airpods nestled in her ears, previously hidden by the waves of her hair. “You scared me, jeez!”

“S-sorry!” Chan holds two hands up apologetically. He makes a move forward, offering to assist her, but she rights herself on the chair on her own, dramatically pressing a hand to her chest as soon as she does it. She whips out her phone, turns off the song, and pops out the airpods.

“Whew, that could have ended up a lot worse,” she says cheerfully. She gives Chan a huge grin and laughs a little. “Sorry about that! I come here for a little me time while the boss is out for meetings and I get really into nail care.” She has a slight overbite that makes her look more demure than this conversation is making her out to be. “We’re still looking for a new receptionist so if you’re here for an appointment, I’ll just help you find who you’re looking for.” Her eyes widen. “Unless _you’re_ the new receptionist.” Then narrow. “But they never mentioned anything…”

Chan feels out of breath just listening to her. He blinks, before interrupting her train of thought lest it end up further south than he wants it to be. “I’m Lee Chan,” he introduces himself quickly. “I’m looking for Soonyoung? Kwon Soonyoung?”

“Ah, Soonyoung-oppa!” she says, clapping a little. She grins, fond. “He’s right inside. I’ll show you, if you’d follow me.” She hops off the seat, and Chan finds that she’s quite tiny, despite all the energy that she’s giving off. “Lee Chan! I think he’s mentioned you at one of their meetings.” She gestures for him to follow her, and he falls into step next to her. “You’re going to be the pastry chef contributor, aren’t you?”

“Word travels, I see,” Chan says sheepishly. “I guess I am, if all goes well today.”

They’re walking into a semi-open office area that had frosted opaque glass walls and doors lining the sides and surrounding an area filled with personalized work stations. There’s people in little groups congregating, gossiping, laughing, and Chan can’t help but wonder if this is how it’s like in this place, every single day.

It’d be something if it was.

“It will,” she tells him firmly. She sounds so sure he feels calmed by her resolution. “I think Soonyoung-oppa showed us pictures of your work at the staff meeting. They look amazing.” He ducks his head when she gives him a bright smile, but he can’t help but note that all his nerves are seeping out in her presence.

“Thanks a lot, uh…”

“Oh shoot, where are my manners?” She hits herself on the forehead lightly, before bowing slightly at him. “I’m Park Jiwon. I’m the assistant to the editor-in-chief. But everyone here is so nice and great, you’ll see! You’ll fit in, I just know it.” They stop in front of a door, the privacy glass matching the rest of the walls, but there’s a plate hovering above the silver door handle that read ‘Video Editing’.

“Video…?”

“Trust me,” Jiwon says. She gives him a conspiratorial wink, before pushing the door and stepping in. “Aish, Chaeyoung-ah, it’s so dark in here, this is so bad for your eyes!”

“Unnie, I’ve been trying to tell her that for the past ten minutes, but she keeps insisting,” another voice whines in response. “Ow! Stop!”

“Syeon-ah, you said nothing until now!”

“Nagyungie heard me, you heard me, right?”

Chan blinks rapidly when Jiwon hits the lights. As his eyes adjust, he sees three girls on one side of the room sitting at a desk with their laptops in front of them, two of them glaring at each other and the other, sitting in between them, blissfully unaware, fingers flying rapidly over her keyboard.

On the other side of the room, though, Chan sees Soonyoung at a laptop and another boy bent over him, clearly trying to explain something to Soonyoung and manually using his hands to move Soonyoung’s wrists into place. He’s wearing glasses and a patient expression, and it seems like Soonyoung’d been looking up at him before Jiwon had opened the door.

“Chan-ah! You came!” Soonyoung exclaims loudly. Chan notes how pink his ears are, but doesn’t mention it, simply sighing in exasperation as he opens his arms to receive a huge hug from his hyung.

“I keep my word, don’t I?” Chan mutters, and Soonyoung laughs into his ear, warm and familiar. Chan’s stomach clutches. Despite all his hesitance and nerves, he’s so excited to be working with Soonyoung on something again. Their old high school food blogs seemed like forever ago.

“Oh! Let me introduce you to everyone,” Soonyoung tugs him into the room, before throwing his hand out towards the crowd. “Everyone, this is Lee Chan. He’s going to be a guest contributor for the Youtube channel!”

“Oh, the pastry chef!” says the girl in the middle with the small face and blonde bob. She smiles brightly at him. “Soonyoung-oppa’s been so excited for today. He’s been here almost every day bugging Wonwoo-oppa to make sure he’s gotten footage of places where you’ve been and where you work for your official intro video.”

“Hyung,” Chan whines slightly at Soonyoung troubling anyone on his behalf. “You could have just asked, I could have done something.” He’s not exactly sure what, but he’d have thought of something. Honestly.

“Pish-posh,” Soonyoung flaps a hand dismissively. “That’s Wonwoo’s _job_.” He shoots the other boy in the room a smirk. “Right, Wonwoo-yah?”

The other boy—Wonwoo, it seems—rolls his eyes before sinking into the chair Soonyoung had flown out of. “Conveniently enough, yes.” He leans back, before nodding at Chan and giving him a small smile. “Welcome to Meokja. I’m Wonwoo, and these three,” he gestures towards the three girls, who nod, smile and wave at him, “are Lee Chaeyoung, Lee Nagyung and Lee Seoyeon.”

“Yes, we’re all Lees,” Chaeyoung chimes in.

“So am I,” Chan quips, and Seoyeon bounds up to him to give him a spirited high five.

“Wonwoo-oppa and I handle cameras, and these two are the editors,” Chaeyoung explains. She tosses her long wavy brown hair over her shoulder, before clapping her hands. “We’ll work hard to make you look good, Lee Chan-ssi.”

“Oh wow,” Chan nods, a little overwhelmed. “Um, thanks? I guess?”

“What Chaengie means,” Nagyung hurries to correct her friend. “Is that we’ll make sure your content is great.” She gives him a thumbs up sign and a decisive nod. “Syeonie and I have been here since they opened the channel last year, so we know the ropes. Don’t worry about it!”

“Absolutely,” Seoyeon nods resolutely. “Though if you could throw in a few one-liners, it’d make our job easier.”

“Syeonie!” everyone in the room chimes in, and Seoyeon’s eyes widen, her palms coming up defensively.

“What? It’s true?”

“Let’s leave these yuksters to it, shall we, Chan? I have to introduce you to Jihoonie and Cheol-hyung before the staff meeting.”

“Seungcheol-oppa isn’t back yet, but he’ll probably be in about fifteen minutes,” Jiwon chirps up.

“Staff meeting?” Chan can’t keep the little frisson of panic from creeping into his voice. “Hyung, you just said it’ll be a quick screen test today?”

“You don’t have to stay the whole time!” Soonyoung reassures him. He waves at everyone, eyes lingering just a little over Wonwoo, before he pushes them both out of the door. “It’s just a really quick way to introduce you to everyone. After you say hello, I’ll hand you over to Hansollie while the staff meeting goes on. He’ll give you a tour of the test kitchen and Chaengie can take your test shots. I’ll catch up to you as soon as we finish.”

“It’ll be fine, Chan!” Soonyoung insists, at seeing Chan’s terrified expression. He lays a hand on Chan’s shoulder, rubs it a little. “Hey, listen, if you feel weird at the end of today, you don’t have to push through with anything. It’s important to me that this’ll be something _you_ want to do.”

Chan furrows his brows. Soonyoung looks back at him, smiling peacefully. He’s blonde right now, and his hair is getting a little long, falling over his eyes, but he still looks very much the same—same energy, same quick grin, same sparkly eyes when he’s particularly excited by something. He would never have actually pushed through with culinary school if no one had actually pushed him to really look into how much he enjoyed food beyond just shoveling it into his mouth, and that was mostly Soonyoung.

Which meant that he owed him. Soonyoung would have hated to hear it, but it’s how he felt. If Soonyoung thought it was a good idea, then there was no reason why he couldn’t even _try_ at least once.

“One video, hyung,” Chan confirms, hiding a smile at Soonyoung’s excited little whoop. “If it doesn’t completely flop, we can talk about… more.” He gets swept up in Soonyoung’s embrace then, mortified when Soonyoung dances a crazy line dance down the corridor with him while cackling like a madman.

“Hyung, let—let go of m—oh my God, I don’t know you!”

—-

“Hey, are you Lee Chan?”

It’s a strange accent that gets Chan looking up from his phone. He’s sat at Soonyoung’s cubicle while the latter’s engaged in the staff meeting, which wasn’t as intimidating as he’d initially expected. He barely remembers any names aside from Jiwon’s and Wonwoo’s and the three Lees, but he figures he’ll be in and out of this place enough over the next few months to become more familiar with everyone. Even meeting Jihoon, the diminutive Food Editor who Soonyoung swore was the most intimidating person in the office, wasn’t so bad, as he’d happened to be meeting him while he was aggressively shaking a pinball machine in the editor-in-chief’s office.

Seungcheol, whom he’d met right before the staff meeting and who’d insisted Chan call him hyung right away, was really nice, and put Chan immediately at ease. They’d had a lively conversation about the desserts Chan had put out for Hotel Aubergine, and which recipes he’d hoped he’d be able to show on the channel. Chan was surprised he knew so much about his work, but Soonyoung told him that Seungcheol made it a point to be familiar with a contributor’s work because Meokja was, essentially, a monthly food recommendation piece, and Seungcheol’s reputation and credibility, more than anyone else’s, was on the line every time.

“Yes?”

He’s lucky he’s sitting down because the wide grin that greets him is enough to make his knees feel all melty. _You cannot be a real person,_ Chan thinks to himself, as he watches the guy with the smile grab the opposite chair and pull up next to him. He’s wearing some kind of tie-dye shirt and a bright yellow beanie, but Chan can see little blonde curls peeking out from underneath the headgear, framing his face that strongly reminds Chan of a cherub. Except a cherub would not be caught dead in those boots.

“I’m Hansol Vernon Chwe. Assistant test kitchen manager,” he tells Chan casually. There’s something about him that’s very laid back and relaxed—it makes Chan feel incredibly tense by comparison. “Soonyoung-hyung told me to take care of you while they’re inside. Do you want a tour?”

“T-take care of me?” That _hyung_. “I’m-it’s okay, I’m fine. I can sit here and wait for Soonyoung-hyung to finish.”

“Nah, come on, I don’t bite,” Vernon tilts his head at him, tips of his mouth curling at the ends. Chan maybe wants to die. “Despite how these look.” He points to his mouth and brings his teeth up and down in a chomping motion, trying to make Chan laugh.

It works. A giggle bursts out of him, unexpected. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to get you to chill, man,” Vernon says, smiling. “You look a little nervous.” He spins around his chair lazily, but keeps his eye on Chan.

“Is it that obvious?” Chan worries his bottom lip. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”

The thing is, he’s watched the channel. Ever since Soonyoung told him he’d have to make videos, he’d opened the Meokja Test Kitchen Youtube archive and watched a few videos, just to familiarize himself with what they did. And what they did was such good fun. Chan wondered if he could ever match the energy of the senior food writers like Soonyoung and Junhui, or if he could explain the intricacies of cooking like Jisun or Hyojung. It’s not in him to give up before even trying, but still. He wonders.

Vernon shrugs. “We all started out somewhere! The important thing to do is start, right?” He gives Chan a reassuring grin, and Chan feels his chest tighten just a little.

_Oh no._

“I… suppose.”

“Great talk,” Vernon nods, chuckling, and Chan can’t help but smile back at him. He stands and offers a hand, which Chan takes, hoping Vernon doesn’t notice how it’s shaking just a little.

“Now I show you around the test kitchen, okay?” He gets tugged towards the bank of elevators, where the stairs leading to the 31st floor—the location of the test kitchen—are.

Chan’s breath staggers on an exhale. Vernon’s still holding his hand. “Okay.”

_Scratch that. This is definitely Soonyoung’s fault._

The smile he gets in response is brilliant. He’s in so much trouble.

_Definitely._

_ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Wonwoo as the boss of 00z line of fromis is a dream come true, honestly.
> 
> Please wait until the staff box page loads, I worked hard on it ;; tell me in the comments or on @historiologies whose stories you want to hear next!! I plan to do little vignettes from now on, and if you want to hear about anyone in particular, or want to rally for a certain pair, let me know!! I'm super excited about this :) thank you!!


	3. Design Doldrums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gyuri is distracted, and Jeonghan is bad at pep talks.

“Gyuri-ya, are you even listening to me?”

Gyuri was not. In fact, she doesn’t even realize she’s being spoken to, so distracted is she by the impromptu meeting the staff writers had organized a few tables away from her cubicle. They’d always been a rowdy bunch, but today Mingyu, Minghao and Saerom were in rare form, blitzing ideas at each other at a rapid pace, fiercely applauding each other’s concepts and pointing firm fingers in each other’s direction, their voices carrying over to the design section of the office.

They were currently discussing pesto substitutes, a topic Saerom had introduced a few minutes ago. Gyuri doesn’t even pretend to flip through the book on her desk anymore, staring openly at the way Saerom laughs at Mingyu’s expression, the way she tucks her hair behind her ear, the way she uses her hands to explain the angle she wants to approach this story and god if her laugh isn’t the cutest thing in the world Gyuri can’t get over it.

“Earth to Gyuri?”

She jolts when a hand is waved in front of her. “Oppa!” Jeonghan is sitting on the edge of her table, giving her a smug little smirk. If he hadn’t been her direct supervisor, Gyuri would have shoved him off unceremoniously. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough,” he tells her breezily. A flush creeps onto Gyuri’s cheeks when Jeonghan stares pointedly at the writing group. “Why don’t you ask her out already?”

“I do _not_ know what you’re talking about,” Gyuri blusters at him. Her hands fidget and land on another design magazine. “Excuse me, I have work to do.”

“Pshh, work can wait. Let oppa give you love advice,” Jeonghan drawls. He reaches over and grabs an empty swivel chair, pulls up next to Gyuri. He straddles the spine of the chair, perches his chin on the back of it. “Jang Gyuri.”

She narrows his eyes at him. “Yoon Jeonghan,” she retorts in the same tone. 

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, but chuckles. “You’re such an irreverent brat.”

She sticks her tongue out but laughs. “It’s why you hired me.”

“You’ve liked Saerom for almost a _year_ now—”

Gyuri glares at him. “Can you keep your voice down?”

“You dropped your lunch the first time she came into the office—”

“The trays in the pantry are _slippery_, I told Hayoung about it already—”

“You look like this whenever she talks to you—”

Gyuri’s jaw drops at the face Jeonghan is making. “Oppa, I do _not_.”

“Oh believe me, you do,” Jeonghan insists, giggling when Gyuri glares at him even harder. “Gyuri-ya, it’s okay to like someone you know.”

She gives him a dead stare. “Oppa, you should _not_ be encouraging office romances. You’re management and should know better.”

Jeonghan’s eyes widen. “So you _do_ admit you like her?”

Gyuri throws her hands in the air. “You are impossible!” She huffs, before resolving to ignore Jeonghan completely, sticking her nose into the book of templates in her hand as Jeonghan watches her silently for a few seconds.

“Hypothetically, you know, if you started dating her, I believe you are both professional enough to not let it distract you from work,” Jeonghan says in a sing-song voice. “Also, I’m pretty sure the only person who has the right to complain about it is Seungcheol, and he literally cannot say a word against office romances unless he up and fires Jihoon so.”

Despite the flush on her cheeks, Gyuri purses her lips and tries not to grin. The thought of Seungcheol going around the office without fondly looking after Jihoon was so foreign a concept she couldn’t even think of it as a legitimate possible scenario.

“Also, our publishers have an open bet with each other about you two, but that’s neither here nor there.”

“I’m sorry, _what_?”

Jeonghan winks at Gyuri. “Since Byul-noona holds the purse strings and I’ve been trying to get her to invest in another food stylist for us, I’d really appreciate it if you asked Saerom out before the Chuseok issue.”

“I—”

“Have your samples with me by the end of the day, Gyuri-ya. I’ll be waiting!” Gyuri watches Jeonghan sashay away from her down the hall, towards the elevators, at a loss for words. She’s still filled with indignation when a hand lands on her shoulder and she startles again.

Working at Meokja is not good for her heart rate, it seems.

“Gyuri-ya, are you okay?”

And if her heart beats faster when she sees Saerom looking at her with those big eyes and pretty lashes, well, Jeonghan doesn’t have to know, does he?

“I’m fine,” she answers, a little breathless. She clears her throat. God, she’s a mess. “Um, did you need anything?”

Saerom smiles at her brightly, and it makes Gyuri feel warm inside, like she swallowed some sunshine. “We’re done with our meeting and I was thinking of grabbing some coffee from the kitchen.” Her hands slide from Gyuri’s shoulder, down her arm, to link loosely with hers. The warmth inside Gyuri suddenly intensifies. Saerom can be so tactile, and Gyuri can never get used to it. Her skin is so soft and smooth. It’s distracting. “Do you want to come with me?”

“I—” And maybe Jeonghan is right, maybe she does think Saerom is sweet and funny and kind and maybe, just maybe, Gyuri would like nothing more than to hold her hand and find out if she tastes just as wonderful as she looks, but more than anything Gyuri loves her job. She loves what she does, likes working with food even though she’s one of the few people in the office who can’t cook to save her life, likes making what they do look good. She doesn’t want things to change, not yet at least, which would happen if she dated someone from work and it ended badly. No matter what Jeonghan says and no matter how lax your office rules are, it still doesn’t feel right to date someone you work with, even if your publishers themselves have a bet about you getting together with your co-worker. It was a risk that she didn’t want to take.

It just didn’t feel right.

She extricates her arm from the other girl’s regretfully. “Maybe later, Saerom-ah. I have to get these to Jeonghan-oppa by the end of the day. Sorry.” She ducks her head and focuses on going through the pages of the book, swallowing down her disappointment and already missing the soft press of Saerom’s fingers on her arm.

She’s so focused she misses the disappointment on Saerom’s face and the way she looks back at her before turning the corner and walking away.

**Author's Note:**

> I keep changing twitter names but I'm back to @historiologies for fic stuff. Tell me how you feel about the fic so far, and if you have any suggestions right over there :)


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